Me, You, and Morning Routine
by sassafrasss
Summary: Their love was a slow one, built on tea and quiet and the presence of one another in the early morning. Yes, their love was a slow love. Robin/Raven


Their love was a slow one.

In the beginning, it was a bit forced, what with the whole Trigon thing and the prophecies and Raven being the Bringer of Ends. She rationalized bringing Robin out of the time freeze because frankly she couldn't deal with the prophecy warnings and a superpowered Slade without a friend anymore and Robin had the best grasp on the skills 'Discretion' and 'Respecting Raven's Space.' She'd never intended on any of her fellow Titan's to see or know nearly that much about her.

Similarly, Raven taking the liberty of strolling through his mind hadn't really been part of Robin's carefully organized Life Plan. Since then, their teamwork had been flawless, a trait he attributed to the fact she knew his favorite color was actually cerulean blue, he secretly harbored a love for earl grey tea despite his outward dedication to coffee, he was left-eye dominant but both right-handed and right-footed, his parents dropping to the circus ring floor and landing like a couple sacks of potatoes played over and over again in his memory like a six-second video, he was a billionaire playboys adopted son, and that he was secretly disappointed that Cyborg was allergic to cats.

Lurching and rocky at first, their sudden and intimate knowledge of each other created a strangely deep but endlessly awkward bond.

Truthfully, their relationship started when they discovered their very similar sleeping schedule. Neither slept late. Robin preferred to spar during the day, when not chasing criminals in Jump City. Raven preferred meditating during the day. True to their names, though, they were the earlybirds of Titan's Tower.

Some of Robin's best research happened in the very early morning, munching on a breakfast sandwich over his keyboard on the common room couch, his hair still mussed from sleep. Raven enjoyed gently blowing on a hot cup of morning tea and reading a good book as the morning light seeped into her room. When the water boiler in Raven's room finally quit working, she thought nothing of it to move her routine to the common room until she could replace her boiler, thinking that no one would be there anyways.

When she stepped through the automatic doors, arms loaded with a large book, a teapot, mug, loose leaf tea canister, and a small metal cage for steeping, she was surprised to find Robin on the couch, trying in vain to pick crumbs from his keyboard.

"Oh, Raven," he said, equally surprised upon looking up, "here let me help you."

He slid his laptop to the side and jumped up to assist her with her burden, gently setting the teapot on the counter.

"I didn't know you were awake this early, Robin." Raven responded, and then, belatedly, "thanks."

He flashed her a quick smile. "Yeah, the morning light helps me think."

Raven set her other things down near the teapot and then took a half-step or two towards the stove and tea kettle. "I can just, uh, get hot water and go back to my room if I'm disturbing you," she started.

"No way, you're not disturbing me at all, Raven," he quickly replied, then gestured to her book and teapot, "if you're settling in then I hope my typing won't be disturbing you."

"No, that's fine," and she moved towards the kettle with more purpose now that she knew she was welcome. He nodded and returned to the couch and his research. To be honest, she found the soft tapping of his keyboard rather soothing.

In that first morning, they realized that they both heavily valued the calm of the morning before the rest of the Titans (or villains around the city) woke up. After a week or two, Raven was starting to entertain the idea of not buying a new water boiler at all.

The quiet comfort of their silence and presence quickly became something they both enjoyed, as well as the few small interactions they had. Robin nearly always beat her to the living room, so every morning he jumped right up to help her unload her arms of whatever thick heavy book she was reading, despite her protests.

Once, sitting back on the couch after helping her with her things, Robin let out a huff and started to get up again. Before he managed to get halfway there, the coffee cup he had left on the counter-top floated over to him at the couch, wrapped in Raven's tell-tale black cloak, and gently set down on the coffee table.

Rather than thank her, Robin shot her a smile and, hesitantly, she returned it with a small one of her own.

Yes, theirs was a love based on tea and, a few weeks later, he helped her by carrying her tea canister and book. While they walked to the counter, Raven watched him turn the canister over in his hands and inspect the type.

"It's Irish Breakfast," she supplied, "You can have some too, if you like."

"Is it-"

"It's black tea, fairly similar to earl grey," she cut him off, a faint tone of smugness tingeing her voice.

He eyed her. "I'd like to try it."

Overtime, he stopped drinking coffee entirely, but now chipped in to Raven's tea fund.

In the upcoming months, he asks her if she'll bring him a book he may like the next morning for him to read. Robin makes a gently teasing comment about her tattoos and, rather than storming out, she lets out a small laugh. Some mornings they say nearly nothing at all to each other, and others they share a conversation or a personal story. At one point, Raven struggles to shift one of the things she's carrying into his hands and, as a result, they both end up unsteady and awkward, finally stabilizing with their noses nearly touching and his free hand firmly braced on the small of her back. They break apart, but don't talk about it. It's not really their style.

Later, she decides to read on the couch with him rather than at the counter or floating in mid air as usual. On the way around the couch, she runs her fingers lightly through his mussed hair. They become comfortable with small, gentle touches. Their shoulders would brush when both using the stove and their fingers would trace over each other as mugs of tea were handed over. Robin was fond of gently resting his hand on her hip as he passed by; Raven's hands seemed to find his unruly hair almost magnetic.

Finally one day, as he passed her a refilled mug of tea, the brief eye contact and warm look of Raven's eyes seemed just right and he leaned down and kissed her gently and briefly on the lips.

She didn't have to tell him that she'd like to do it again some time; the kettle on the stove gave a soft whistle as the water quickly heated despite the fact the burner had been off for more than ten minutes.

They kiss more and for longer durations with the passage of time, but mostly the routine stays the same. The quiet is as much a part of their romance as anything else, and they know that.

"You know," Raven nonchalantly suggests between sips of tea one day, "it would be a lot easier for you to help me carry my stuff if you were there to pick it up in my room in the first place."

He looks at her for a moment with surprise on his face and the typing stops. Then he turns back to the keyboard and smiles.

That night, when they go bed, Robin follows Raven into her room and, for the first time, wraps his body around her and sleeps deeply, peacefully. The next morning, they both carry the pieces for their morning routine from Raven's room to the common room.

Yes, theirs is a slow love and the first time they have sex, nearly two years since they discovered their similar schedules, they miss their morning routine the next day entirely. Naked and tucked against Robin's chest, Raven curls her toes as she starts to stir. In her half-asleep state, she debates the merits of finally buying that water boiler, as it would be much more beneficial to start making tea in her room once again than to put clothes back on and wander outside. As though he could read her thoughts, Robin's arm tightens to draw her just a little closer.


End file.
